Dear Wanker
by Where're Teh Twinkies
Summary: When England loses his temper, he does what anyone else would - writes an insulting letter to someone whether he likes them or not, because it's not his fault there are so many bloody wankers in the world to day, and you are one of them.
1. Warnings

**Dear Wankers, **

So, you're reading this, are you? Bloody hell, I just returned from bloody Rome, and already you bloody wankers want to invade my privacy!

Well then, if it's a spectacle you want, I suppose it's a spectacle you're going to get. Damn it all to hell.

Well, then, I suppose I should warn you that when I'm angry, I get angry, and I probably cuss more than I should. When I'm drunk, I'm worse. Just warning you ahead of time.

(Maybe now you bloody gits won't read this bloody blog now.)

Well, enjoy, you damned wankers.

Arthur Kirkland


	2. Tourist Wankers

**Dear Tourist Wankers,**

Now, I know that my Ferris Wheel is the largest in the world, my people have 'funny accents,' especially when they cuss, and I know that Big Ben is bigger than you, in literal and rhetorical sense, but can you stop bloody loitering? I can't get to work in the morning because you wankers are blocking traffic with your tour buses and walking around like bloody gits with your bloody jackets tied around your bloody stupid waists! Bloody hell, I couldn't get any coffee yesterday morning because you wankers were taking up the whole bloody building. The line was backed up all the way outside and down the side of Panera on the opposite side of the plaza!

I swear, you're plotting to take over the bloody world or something. Maybe you're just obsessed with me—don't try to deny it, you bloody gits, I see it in your eyes every time you hear me talk. What, did you think every Englishman was bucktoothed with beady eyes and bloody honker noses? Oh, you're surprised that I was at a coffee café and not some bloody tea house, aren't you? Well, Englishmen like coffee, too, you gits!

Also, do you think I have time to pose in your bloody pictures? I'm a country—I've got important things to do, and I don't want your stupid bloody love letters, either! I've got conferences to attend. Do you know what that's like? I have to sit there for sixteen bloody hours and listen to constant bickering—bloody France is always trying to seduce somebody; America is always yelling in my ear; Romano is always yelling at Spain; Romania sighs and daydreams until someone like Prussia jumps up and insults him; Germany does absolutely nothing to keep Italy from eating my food; bloody Belarus is always pestering Russia and Ukraine just sits in the corner and cries; Turkey just sits there and googles at bloody Belgium; Greece and Japan always have all these bloody cats sitting all over them; Egypt sits there with that blank expression—China keeps trying to sell his bloody noodles to every bloody git who passes him; and then everybody else just yells and eats and, occasionally, someone starts a food fight. The other countries are like bloody animals, I tell you—they're all bloody wankers! I don't need your rubbish to add onto that!

And before I forget—please stop sending me all your bloody love letters. I don't know you and I don't bloody plan to, and I am NOT interested in your 'girl scout cookies!'

You are all worthless wankers,

Arthur Kirkland

PS: STOP CALLING ME, I'M NOT INTERESTED!


	3. America Wanker With a Cat

**Dear America, You Damned Wanker,**

You could have given me chocolate, or thin mints, or tea bags, or MILK, for God's sake—you could have given me ANYTHING for Valentines Day! But a cat? You got me a CAT? What the bloody hell am I supposed to do with it?!

It's been sitting in my parlor window all day, staring at me. It's got these huge green eyes that are scaring me. I think it's trying to peer inside my soul. And then, when I turn around, I can see the bloody thing staring at the back of my head. It's still staring at me whilst I write you this letter! What am I supposed to call it? Does Fluffy work?

Take it back, America—you git—I don't want it! It's an ominous shade of gray and I don't know how long it will be until it…murders me. It won't murder me, will it? Bloody hell—JUST COME BACK HERE AND TAKE THE DAMN THING AWAY!

I'm warning you! Take it back!

No regards this time, you stupid Wanker!

Arthur Kirkland

PS: You really wanted to git me good this time, didn't you? Get it? Git? Get—oh, never mind…


	4. Blog Viewers

**Dear Blog Viewers,**

Good day to you all. I do not think we have been properly introduced. While most of you might know my more…common and disgraceful name, Fluffy (honestly, what sort of pathetic fool would name their cat that?), I would prefer it if you refer to me by my actual name: Bartholemew Herbert Hadshock the Fifth. A rather long name, I know, but if you wish, you may call me Mew. Though I would not advise that, for I may scratch your eyes out for such an atrocity. You may call me Bartholemew for short. Any such nonsense with this Fluffy thing and I shall bite your nose off, and do not underestimate me. I once inflicted a very deep gash on a rather stupid and annoying Frenchman.

What is this thing, anyway? What is a blog? I'm not sure I am familiar with these strange…things. I have lived two years, and never have I experienced such an awkward thing. I do get the drift though—is that what those Americans say? Get the drift? Dear heavens, what is a 'drift?' Americans are quite funny creatures.

Well, I suppose I shall leave you with this: my blessings and good wishes. I am still not quite sure of the purpose of this blog, but I shall take this as my chance to communicate to the outside world. That dastardly fiend is keeping me locked away in this house, but he has momentarily stowed himself away inside his basement. Does the fool not think I know he is there? Such foolishness…

Regards,

Bartholemew Herbert Hadshock the Fifth

PS: What is a PS? Dear me, I don't believe I have ever used one of these before. This is quite exhilarating!


	5. French Wanker

**Dear French Wanker,**

Francis, would you stop biking in circles around my house, you stupid wanker? That's right, I saw you! You've just made your tenth round—I'm not coming outside to say hi. Last time I did that you tried to kiss me. I won't fall for the same trick twice!

I would have expected Fluffy to scare you off by now. That's right, I've got a man eating lion sitting in my house right now, and he's blood thirsty. You'd best run before I release him out the front door! And don't you even think about flirting with him—he has a score to settle with you, you obnoxious wanker! Remember last year's conference? I told him all about that, and now he's after you!

And don't you even try sneaking into my house, you idiot! Fluffy will rip you apart!

Cheerio, you pretentious wanker,

Arthur Kirkland

PS: Fluffy says you shave a mullet!


	6. Yo, England!

**Dear England, Yo!**

Hey, dude! What's up? I got your letter, bro, and I just want you to know that I totally got the cat for you because it spoke to me. You know? Like, it didn't actually speak to me or anything, but I thought you liked cats. I thought they were, like, English figures or whatever.

I was watching a movie the other day, and there was a witch with a black cat. Like a witch's familiar, or whatever, and it gave her the awesome magical powers! It was a total badass—it beat the crap out of people! At one point, it had this huge machine gun, and it blasted the crap out of the of the good guys and then it scratched the hell out of some guy's face! And then, and then it bit some guy's nose off and said, "I eat this crap for breakfast." Best line ever!

But I thought you'd totally dig the cat, man. Doesn't it give you, like, superpowers or something? It did to that witch lady. Aren't you a witch? Or, wait, is it warlock? Dude, is World of Warcraft legit in your country? It seems like it is!

Anyway, Happy Valentines Day, dude!

Alfred Jones

PS: Dude, can you believe Lovino and Antonio are in Antarctica? Twinkies totally told me they were going there, but dude, why Antarctica? It's fuckin freezing there!


	7. Alfred Wanker

**Dear Alfred,**

Did you just call me a witch? You stupid wanker—I am NOT a girl! I am a WARLOCK, you stupid—oh, no, you mentioned that, actually, I see that now.

But no, cats are for witches, not for regular, normal people like myself! And why the bloody hell did you think I wanted a cat, you git?! Who buys a cat for Valentines Day? I swear, you are such an ingrate sometimes, Alfred!

And what kind of movies are you watching? Let me guess, stupid action movies your country produces, right? I mean, really? Bridesmaids? Is that how you idiots pass the time—watching heartfelt movies about backstabbing friends? Cloverfield—I mean, are you a complete wanker? Earth Girls Are Easy—what? Speed? What about that ridiculous movie about Thor? Or that godawful movie Inception? Or The Epic Movie? Not Another Teen Movie—I agree! Your media AND your movies are crap! I know it's painful to hear, but I criticize you because I love you.

Not really,

Arthur Kirkland

PS: Did you tell Romano about the cat? He sent me a four page letter about it! Or you told Twinkies, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU? Well, I guess it's no surprise, I mean, she did teach you all the curse words you know. Of course, she never bathed you or fed you or protected you from other useless countries who wanted to steal you for themselves and who knows what your fate might have been then, but it's completely understandable that you'd rather go clubbing with her and your friends than come drink tea with me, completely understandable.


	8. Reply to a Bloody Wanker

**Dear England,**

What would you do if I told your mother that you've been cussing that much? I will read this "bloody blog" because it is fun to see you angry.

Love,

A Bloody Wanker.

_Return Letter_

**Dear 'Bloody Wanker,'**

Don't you bring my mother into this! She doesn't know anything about this, and I'd like to keep it that way! If she knew…well, uh, I'd rather not reveal any personal affairs. But don't bring this up to my mother, you git! I'm warning you!

And you better NOT continue reading this bloody blog! I didn't even want it! It all started with that damned Dear Bastard Romano's neighbor Twinkies started for him, and next thing you know, the jerks who read that blog want ME to be their next lab rat! I am NOT to be made a fool of—I am Great Britain! I was on top of the bloody world before everyone decided they wanted their stupid independence! I was America's bloody KING before he became a delinquent like that Twinkies! Now Romano and Spain are somewhere off in Antarctica and he can't write letters as frequently, so now I'm the stupid fool writing on this stupid blog! WHY DIDN'T FOUR MORE PEOPLE VOTE FOR PRUSSIA?! WHY ME? WHY CHOSE ME?! I'M REALLY NOT THAT EXCITING, I SWEAR!

But whatever, I won't let you bloody wankers know how much I hate you all…which I do, and maybe someday I'll write and entire novel about how much I hate you all.

Sincerely (that's an obvious lie),

England

PS: At least I don't spell bloody PPS as PSS like bloody Romano! Wait, I did, didn't I…

PPS: PPS, there you have it! Now don't you patronize me anymore! And I'm not afraid of my cat! I mean, ha—it's just a cat. It just gives me ominous glares and, sometimes, I think I hear it muttering in the middle of the night…But I'm not scared! Preposterous…


	9. From Arthur's Lovely Mama

**Dear Arthur,**

What is this, this blog you are writing? What atrocity is this? No son of mine curses like this, especially not you! I let you take over the country and you reward me with this nonsense! You are above cursing like a bloody twat, you fool!

How could you disobey your poor momma? How could you inflict such horror and anxiety on my poor mind? What will the other countries think? What will they say? You might have single-handedly corrupted your poor sister's chances at matrimony! How will she marry well now! What young man would graciously offer her their hand now? I cannot forgive you for this!

Love,

Your Mother

PS: I believe that monstrosity you call a cat is communicating on your blog! Or you are playing a very nasty trick on very many people!


	10. Mum Wanker

**Dear Mum,**

Mum, why are you reading my blog?! And what do you mean especially me, I'm your only son.

But, mum, don't read my blog! It wasn't even my choice, I swear! It was that damn wank—I mean, that fool Alfred's fault for suggesting a blog to that moron Twinkies! I promise, it wasn't me. And I'm not cussing! A lot. Francis curses more than me—I'm not the only one! Come on, mum, everyone curses these days, especially Alfred.

And I was just kidding, I swear! I'm just replying to my fans, that's all. Romano does it, too. And you didn't just let me take over the country, mum—you tried to kill me after I became I pirate. Two-hundred and seventeen times, to be accurate. But, I mean, heh, who's counting?

And mum, Henrita's a country. She can't marry a 'young man' because she can't marry. Well, I suppose she could, but come on, mum, everyone curses! So do you when you use black magic! I think you've witness more horror that Genghis Khan has killed. I—I mean, I'm not comparing you to him or anything, I love you dearly, mum, but—just don't read my blog, mum. Please.

Perhaps you can torture Romano instead?

With much love,

Arthur

PS: I'm not playing any tricks, I swear! But my cat? No, no, mum, that's impossible, cats don't communicate. Well, with strange noises they do, but they don't actually talk, nor can they type on a keyboard. They are not nearly as intelligent as we are. You're paranoid, mum; it was probably Francis or someone.


	11. Audience

**Dear Audience,**

Forgive my intrusion upon Arthur's blog, however I would like to ask a favor of you all. The fool does not actually know I am intelligent. He believes that all cats are "not nearly as intelligent as humans are," and, frankly, that offends me. I mean, what right does he have assuming that we cats are under miners; unimportant minorities? That rascal truly believes that his own race is the most efficient, the best and the most impressive? We cats have come a long way since ancient times and here I quote my archaic goddess Bastet here: "We cats are the epitome of mischief and cleverness. No mortal shall stand in our way."

And here is another quote from Bonkers: "We cats have nine lives—fuck you."

Forgive me for such language, however it was a very significant part of his quote; such strength and passion.

I will admit, I attempted to smother him one night, but I suppose the Oatmeal is correct when he says cats are not very good at smothering people. Ah, well, lesson learned. Next time I will use a pillow. And yes, I have spoken several times to him while he slept. I spoke words of comfort, promising that whatever came after death would not nearly be as pleasant as me ending his misery in life. Have you caught a glimpse of his eyebrows? My eyes cannot unsee such horror!

Now, I ask that you fellow viewers withhold my secret from the atrocity you people call Arthur Kirkland. I am disappointed in the lack of affection he offers and might be forced to…no. I cannot divulge just yet. Forgive me, dear audience, however I shall have to keep this secret a secret. For now.

Until next time,

Bartholemew Herbert Hadshock the Fifth

PS: I understand that there is some sort of Universal Conference that occurs once every so months. How exactly might that work? Not that I'm going to be attending, but are aliens invited as well? I would assume so as Arthur calls it "universal." Interesting. Quite interesting…quite…


	12. Dear Brother

**Dear Brother,**

Hey, I heard you got owned by mother. She really told you off, huh? And you thought you could persuade her to let you attend the Conference despite your foolishness, eh?

Well, don't feel to pitiful; I'm sure mother did this because she loves you. Besides, I've always been the favorite, anyway.

It's nostalgic, isn't it? Like when we were young; I stayed faithful to mother and you left to become the most despised pirate in all of Old Europe. Of course mother was upset; any mother would loathe her son for disappearing like that. You remember my old friend Anton, yes? His father wanted him murdered for exploring an old castle in Transylvania. Of course, poor Anton had a worse childhood that we both did, however you forget that I am the one who rescued you from the other world. If I hadn't stolen the time travel spell, we would be owned by Rome or Russia. Europe would be long forgotten, and that's the same for you.

Try not to infuriate your cat, Arthur. Transylvania may be the home of darkness and magic, but let's not forget that witches and wizards first originated from this land, especially from yours. Mother has a familiar; it might be a crow, but cats are also considered familiars, and very powerful ones at that. Italy has one, Greece has one, and even Anton has one, however he deals with blacker magic than you. Don't cross paths with him; he is kind and generous…unless you manage to anger or annoy him. Remember when you attempted to seat him in Busby's Chair? Whatever made you think it would work on Anton if it failed on Russia?

I wish you luck;

Henrita Kirkland; Luxembourg

PS: Perhaps you should try communicating to your cat as mother communicates to her crow.


	13. Dear Mon Amour

**Dear Arthur, Hon Hon Hon,**

I believe there is a Conference coming up this weekend—a Conference for the magically oppressed. You ARE going, non? After all, we were both invited!

And I am enthusiastically waiting, mon amour! We are going to be meeting the Tooth Fairy, Dracula, Pere Nöel—we might even meet the Slender Man! I hear Alfred is going to introduce Toby or Roni—whatever his name is—to the others, as well. I expect this to be quite interesting! However, if you don't wish to attend, I'll be sure to send a postcard and maybe some sweets and the main entrees; I know you can't cook very well. I'll also gladly take your spot as "Dictator of Magical Beings." It would be my pleasure! I have wished for some change in life for quite a while…

Ah, how time flies when you're revising your letter again and again; time is a fickle thing, non? Moi, I'm sure you agree! And by the way, Romano is requesting assistance on his own blog. Something or another about capturing his elusive grandfather for mysterious reasons he has yet to reveal to us countries who are obviously not as important as him, the piquer. We can only pray that he won't be there at the Conference, as well.

Adieu, Mon Amour!

Francis

PS: Maybe you should bring your "Fluffy," too, hon hon hon.


	14. Francis Wanker

**Dear Francis, You Rude Wanker,**

Would you stop antagonizing me every moment of the day? I don't know who I dislike more—you or the cat! And he IS a cat, thank you very much, prestigious git…a very, er, honorable cat, too. He's got more courage than you have hair! AND DON'T REPLY WITH SOME IRRELEVANT COMMENT ABOUT MY EYEBROWS, YOU TWAT!

Ahem—YES, I WILL be attending. There will be no need to take my stakes AND STOP WITH THE COOKING JOKES, DAMN YOU. Why does everyone keep saying I can't cook? I can cook! I mean, if I really wanted to! All these years, I've known I was giving you awful food. I wanted you all to—to—uh—get horribly ill and die! Ha—you didn't think I could be that awful, did you? Well, serves to show what you know about me: NOTHING WHATSOEVER.

By the way, your letter was terribly short, Francis. Could it be you spent several hours revising to find the perfect words to write? You stupid romantics. And how many times does it take to WRITE A LETTER? If time is such a "fickle" thing, then why the hell do you spend most your days reciting poetry or writing love letters to the butterfly on your window sill? And don't deny it—I found your letter to the ant under your kitchen carpet!

How EMBARRASSING, am I right, HON HON HON?

And I don't give a damn if Romano is asking for help! That wanker tried to slice my eyebrows off with the same cleaver he uses to chop onions in his damn kitchen! At least China tried waxing them—a cleaver! He could have gouged my eye out! Not to mention his neighbor is the rudest, most infantile creature I have ever met on the face of this Earth. If he wants to capture his grandfather, I DON'T CARE.

I hope he doesn't read this…

Cheerio, you moron;

England, because I'm better than you

PS: DON'T even start, Francis. Don't even start.


	15. E-Mail to That Wanker, Romano

**Dear Romano,**

I suppose we haven't been the best of friends, but…well, yes, I'd be willing to assist you. I mean, this relentless war can't go on forever, can it? I don't really like you and you don't really like me—I guess that's something we have in common?

Well, anyway, I'd like to know what's going on, but I'm sure you'll explain everything in time. I can't believe I'm saying this, but yes—I'm in.

Sincerely,

England


	16. England Bastard

**Dear England Bastard,**

Uh, thanks, I guess…

I still hate you though, you stupid bastard with your stupid eyebrows and your crappy food. And, now, your crappy cat. My turtle, Lovino Jr., can take on your damn cat ANY DAY, you just pick a place!

Whatever, I guess,

Romano


	17. Your Cat, I Mean Avon Lady

**Dear England,**

It's been quite a long while, hasn't it? Forgive me for not writing a letter earlier; I've been vacationing in some very humid location called The Hamptons. Forgive me—did I spell that correctly? Or was it The Bronks? No, no, dear me, I believe I've rendered myself confused again.

Pressing on: it is a very good day to write this letter to you, as I am confident you are in need of one, what with your recent misadventures with that French man and the cold weather of Antarctica. I do believe it is the most frigid place on this planet! The neighborhood strays tell me the two of you were on some exploration, is that right? Well, I've no idea why you'd investigate ice; the only thing it's good for is…didn't Ben Franklin do some sort of experiment with painted ice?

Well, then the only thing ice is good for is painting.

Anyway, it's rather late and I expect you're anxious for the next episode of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic (is that what it's called?), so I'll leave you to it. You like that phrase? An American Shorthair stopped by, taught me that "slang", as he called it. I've learned several phrases over the few months you've been away.

But, dear me, why ever would you call a woman a "bird"? Your neighbor must despise his fiancée very much; I hear him call her that all the time. And who in Heaven's name is Swag? I overheard the term at the local pub, but I don't understand why the huma—I mean, people there would speak of him so much, and in all sort of colorful, irrelevant sentences, such as:

"Ay, check out that Swag!"

Or:

"Look at that guy's Swag; what a hipster. Yolo forever!"

Is Yolo Swag's brother? They certainly sound related!

Your ca—I mean, your Avon Lady,

Bartholemew Herbert Hadshock the Fifth

PS: Why is your television unit so cruel? It shouted at me the other day, said: "You can't handle the truth!" All I was wondering was why the blender wouldn't stop talking after I fed it an egg, and that devilish man yelled at me! You might have a word or two with him!


	18. Female Counterpart Wanker

**Dear Iggy (yes, I had to say that),**

Good god... You are too adorable! Your anger here... I'm just going to die!

I do know how the big eyebrows thing goes... We share many traits, my friend.

It's also hilarious how you're such a grammar nag and make such mistakes that you would notice!

Love, your female counterpart.

**Dear Female Counterpart Wanker,**

Who the HELL decided to give me a FEMALE COUNTERPART!? As if I'm not harassed enough for my abnormally thick eyebrows and—apparently—horrendous cooking skills! I really don't need some female English wanker out there making me look like a blonde Hatsune Miku—some idiot decided to give the woman pigtails.

PIGTAILS! ON AN OTHERWISE GALLANT AND MAGNIFICENT COUNTRY!

For all the non-yaoi fans who hate having me paired with America because he's also a guy, NOW THERE'S A FEMALE COUNTERPART OF ME THAT YOU IDIOTS ARE PAIRING WITH HIM. Now I'm doomed to be stuck with either him or France either way! Can I not win just ONCE?

And don't you call me a "grammar nag", you pretentious wanker! I won the National British Spelling Bee three years in a row, I'll have you know! I believe I know more about grammar that any other country, and I am proud of it! You probably couldn't even spell floccinaucinihilipilification if you tried—and yes, that is a word, go look it up. It's basically a synonym for useless, just like you.

With much love,

Great Britain

PS: Can anyone tell me how my Avon lady got into my house while I've been gone? And don't tell me she came down the chimney…and since when do I have an Avon lady?


	19. Latina Wanker, The Revolution

**Dear Iggy,**

Hi! First of all, I should probably let you know that I'm a proud AMERICAN, that I will always be a proud AMERICAN and that I find the fact that you, the most powerful empire at the time, lost to a bunch of colonists quite amusing. Maybe it was the fact that your men walked in a single file line through a forest wearing bright red coats. I dunno, I'm sure your military expertise is VASTLY superior than mine so you must have had SOME reason for doing something so stupid. There was something else I wanted to say... oh yeah! VIVA AMERICA!

There, now I've gotten my patriotism out of the way. What I really wanted to say was that I really love and respect your culture. Especially your books! Ohhhh, you books! Jane Austin, J. K. Rowling, C. S. Lewis- they were my childhood! And as for your cooking, I tried a scone once and it wasn't that bad. A little on the petrified couch stuffing side but yeah, not bad at all. And just for the record, I hate hamburgers. XP

With love,

A Bloody Latina Wanker

P.S. I actually have a bigger bone to pick with Spain than with you. Ugh, he was a monster in his Conquistador days! At least you had the decency to steal a lot of the gold he got from the Americas. XD

**Dear Latina Wanker,**

I'll ignore your first paragraph—for now.

Absolute respect, is all I can say. It's high time SOMEONE noticed me for my great accomplishments…and not for my eyebrows. I agree, my culture is VERY fascinating, much more so than that idiot wanker, France's. Good God, he eats frog legs and snails for supper! How can that be, in any way, a nutritious meal like he claims it is? I think it's repulsing! But at least he doesn't eat snakes and spiders, like some Middle Easterner I know…

And finally, someone who thinks my food is above wretched! I mean, I suspected it wasn't that horrible all along, but…wait a second, did you say petrified couch stuffing…?

Well, in any case, thank you for your enthusiasm, but over all, you're still a wanker for thinking my military plans were stupid.

But even I'm not sure why we lost...Perhaps it was because my men didn't know what they were fighting for, and, quite honestly, neither did I. All I knew was that I was losing my people, and I felt the responsibility that I had to retrieve them. But Alfred…he was so special to me, I couldn't bear to lose him. I felt like a man who had lost a part of him, a part of his heart. I wanted to believe that all I wanted was my dignity back; I felt I had lost it when I lost the colonies to rebellion. That was like a major hit to my groin, and it was very embarrassing.

But with the turn of the war, I noticed my men's reaction to the war. They wanted to stop, to return home. They said there was no reason for them to fight. They recognized Alfred and his followers as the beginning product of the country I was supposed to help him become. They told me they couldn't continue fighting when the other team desperately wanted something they'd been dreaming of for years. They left me to battle Alfred alone.

And I was in the way of that. I never had to actually gain my own independence, so I couldn't find the connection to relate to Alfred. I knew the day would come when he would become a young man, but I couldn't accept that he'd have to leave me one day. After all, he was a country when I found him; that would never change, a country is a country. And I had taught him to believe in himself, to believe in his dreams, to always hope and continue dreaming.

I'd taught him to never let those hopes or dreams go.

I realized dignity didn't matter, that's not what I had been fighting for. So many friends have left me. It wasn't until the near end of the revolution, when I gazed into Alfred's eyes, that I realized what a monster I'd become. I'd been caging all my friends inside the walls of my culture, my country, and I'd never once permitted them the choice to spread their wings and develop. I had been entrusted to help growing countries become great, and I had completely ignored that.

I hated myself for the longest time after the war. I became a recluse; I couldn't bear to see the faces of those I'd once called friend.

Then World War I came, and I found a way to make myself useful again. I had patched up some of my relationships with some of the other countries, but I was still awkward with America. He made a very ingenious statement, though.

America told me I did help him grow. If the war hadn't occurred, he would have never learned to fight for himself. Without me there to pick him back up, he learned to feed his own country. He'd figured out how to survive without help, without backup. And he'd learned to believe in other people besides the seemingly more powerful ones, like myself. He learned to trust in mankind, something I'd been out of tune with.

America is a fine country, and though I sometimes want to bomb the living hell out of him and his people (their tourists are TERRIBLE and so are some of their manners), I accept the entirety of it. America is my friend and my ally. It's very important to me; the people, the culture, and the leader.

Oh, look at me, I've teared up and cried a bit onto the paper. I hate getting emotional. Rip up this letter the second you've finished reading it; I don't want people to think of me as the sentimental type. That's embarrassing.

Thank you for your letter…it's stirred up some emotions I fear I've been ignoring far too long. I'll pay Alfred a visit later this week. It would be good to get out a little more.

Besides, my cat is still freaking me out.

Arthur Kirkland

PS: I swear to God I don't have an Avon lady, so why the hell did I get a letter from one?!


End file.
